


The most memorable nameday ever

by ChocoNut



Series: Many ways to say I love you [9]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Confessions, F/M, Fluff, Post Season 7, Post-Canon, Season 8
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-24 01:18:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17694851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoNut/pseuds/ChocoNut
Summary: Tormund is smitten with Brienne and approaches Jaime for advice.





	The most memorable nameday ever

“Kingslayer, a moment please!”

Surprised and enraged at the same time, Jaime turned around to see who had addressed him by the title that had always managed to leave a bitter taste in his mouth. Tempted to shout out a curt response when he saw who it was, he contained himself, trying to sound as polite as he could. “Jaime,” he corrected, wanting to excuse himself and leave the dining hall at the earliest. “Or Ser Jaime, if you please.”

“Doesn’t really matter,” Tormund dismissed him casually, making Jaime wonder why he even bothered entertaining the fellow and having a conversation with him. “Let me get to the point.” He shuffled his feet nervously, clearly oblivious of Jaime’s irritation. “I need your help.”

Jaime narrowed his brows, wondering if he had heard him right. “What sort of help?” he asked, giving him a suspicious look.

Tormund averted his eyes and began pacing the room, tension writ large upon his face. “It’s about the big woman--”

For a second Jaime was clueless. “Who?” he interrupted, gaping at him quizzically. A moment later when it struck him who he was referring to, a sudden surge of anger shot through him along with an uncontrollable impulse to knock him down. “Her name’s Brienne,” he corrected Tormund for the second time today, this time with much more indignation than before. “She’s a highborn lady. Call her by her name.”

But Tormund took no notice of Jaime’s blatant display of resentment towards him. “Yes, she’s who I meant,” he agreed, nodded his head vigorously, completely missing Jaime’s point. “You see, I--” he hesitated, presumably searching for the right words to express his problem. “Ever since I first saw her, I’ve had strong feelings for her,” he confessed, his eyes distant and dreamy. His expression left Jaime painfully curious and wondering what fantasies involving Brienne the wildling was mentally engaging in. “You know, the kind that tells you she’s the one, the sort of pull which makes someone irresistible to you. I’m beginning to get the unshakable feeling that she’s made for me. I want to make babies with her, Lannister--”

“You want to… what?” Jaime cut in again, finding it hard to believe what he had just heard.

“I desperately desire her, and I want to make her mine,” Tormund spoke very fast, looking at him eagerly. “I want her to be the mother of my children.”

Something inside Jaime snapped at this little speech. He had met Jon Snow’s wildling friend once or twice, though, having been in Winterfell for just over a week, he had failed to take note of his affection for the wench. That is, if one could call it affection, because what he had just seen in his eyes wasn’t love, but an unmistakable sign of lust and desire, something that was purely carnal. There was nothing emotional about it. He cursed himself for having overlooked something that had been so blatantly staring at him since the day he stepped into the castle. Only now when he recollected every instance in the past, did it occur to him that Tormund had always spoken about Brienne this way.

 _How could I have been so blind? How the hell could I have ignored such obvious signals?_ Tormund’s confession felt like a punch in the gut. Worse still, was the possibility of the wench marrying this man and bearing his offspring. _She can do better than him,_ a small, angry voice inside him grumbled.

“I need your help,” Tormund repeated, his nervous smile now fading into a look of apprehension.

 _Fuck off, you stupid savage!_ It took Jaime all the decency he could muster to stay calm and be courteous to the man who had come in search of him, seeking his assistance. “What sort of help, exactly?” he forced himself to ask. _Get the hell out of my sight and leave the poor lady alone,_ was more like what he actually wanted to tell him.

“She has high regard for you, Lannister,” Tormund admitted, his voice bearing a hint of reluctant praise for Jaime and a faint touch of envy. “She respects you and your opinion.”

“So?” Jaime tried to sound as composed as he could, biting back the irresistible urge to shower him with taunts and curses.

Tormund looked so sad and forlorn that Jaime would’ve sympathised with him had his love life not involved Brienne. “She barely even looks at me. She’s been avoiding me like I’m a bloody wight. I mean, I know women aren’t usually vocal about their feelings, so it could also be that she secretly likes me, but does she usually--”

He kept talking for the next few seconds, but Jaime paid no attention to him, trapped in his own thoughts. _He’s worse than a bloody wight,_ the evil little voice in his head made its presence felt again _. How dare he pursue her despite her obvious lack of interest in him?_ At that thought, Jaime paused, reconsidering his assumption about Brienne’s feelings, and as he did that, his initial confidence about her disinterest in Tormund was slowly beginning to crumble. What if she did have feelings for him? He had just met her a couple of times since his arrival, their brief conversations never giving him an opportunity to delve into matters of personal importance such as these. What if his judgement about her was horribly wrong? What if she really did… In the time he had known her, he had never really bothered to find out about her preference in men. All he knew about that aspect of her life was her three failed betrothals.

“I can feel your pain, Tormund,” he finally responded, simply for want of something to say and to stop him from going on and on. “But what I fail to understand, is how the hell can I help you with this?”

“I want to know more about her,” Tormund sank into the nearest chair, eyeing Jaime with eyes as large as dinner plates. “What she likes, what she hates--”

“I hope it’s you she hates,” he muttered under his breath, his inner voice beginning to intervene again.

“What?”

Tormund’s startled look made him realize that he had spoken his thoughts out aloud. “Nothing,” he said hastily, trying to cover up his lapse. “Let’s come back to the point. You need some real counselling about her taste in men, the dos and don'ts to be followed when you talk to her.”

Tormund looked at him hopefully. “Does that mean you’ll help me?”

 _I’ll do more than that,_ Jaime decided, a wicked plan hatching in his mind. _You’re getting nowhere near the wench, not as long as I’m alive!_ “Ofcourse,” he agreed, his tone warm and comforting. “Tell me, what would you like to know?”

“Tomorrow’s her nameday, and--”

“Her nameday?” Jaime stared at him, mentally chiding himself for having missed something so significant. _All these years of association and she never happened to mention it to me... how the fuck does this fellow know about it?_ There could only be one logical explanation to this, he concluded, his heart sinking at the possibility of Brienne reciprocating the wildling’s feelings. _But,_ interrupted another tiny, sensible voice from deep inside his heart, _I never asked her. Why would she tell me something so intimate when Cersei was the only thing in my mind? When have I ever expressed myself to her? Have I ever told her how I feel about--_

“Yes, Lady Sansa told me,” Tormund started again, breaking his train of thoughts. “She probably knows how I feel about her, and maybe thought it best that I knew about it. I want to take her out to the fanciest inn in town for dinner, buy her some flowers. So I thought I’d ask you what her choice might be.”

 _Flowers, you say? I have just the perfect thing in mind for you._ “Roses,” he shouted enthusiastically, recollecting Brienne mentioning to him in passing that she detested roses, red ones in particular. “Pick the red ones. She has a special fondness for them.” He suppressed a smile as he tried to imagine her reaction when Tormund offered her a bunch of the flowers that had, in all her life, been a constant reminder of rejection, an unforgettable slap in the face that repeatedly told her that she was undesirable and unworthy.

Tormund took his hand, shaking it violently. “Thank you, Lannister,” he whispered, giving him a smile that dripped with such sincere gratitude that Jaime felt a bit guilty for lying to him. But all traces of it vanished as abruptly as it had set in when he heard the next sentence. “Gods, how I wish I could get inside her--”

 _So that’s what she is to him,_ Jaime fought hard to keep his rage down, _a prospective fuck and the future mother of his progeny-a means to carry his line ahead._

“I’ll see you later.” Tormund bid him goodbye, once again thanking him profusely for his advice.

Jaime returned to his chambers, wondering how to counter this new problem. He felt so lost and miserable as he mulled over Tormund’s confession that he almost ended up at the wrong door. _First things first,_ he thought, quickly coming up with what he needed to do on Brienne’s nameday tomorrow.

+++++

The next morning, Jaime entered the hall for breakfast, only to find the wench sitting all alone at a corner table. He approached her, hoping to be the first one to greet her on her special day. “Best wishes on your nameday, Lady Brienne,” he said softly, drawing her immediate attention. When she looked up at him with those big blue eyes, he knew at once that everything he had planned to do today was absolutely justified. Taking her hand, he brought it to his lips, kissing her knuckles lightly. “May you have many more.” He sat down on the chair by her side, wanting to speak to her before Tormund arrived.

“Thank you, Ser Jaime,” she gushed, her eyes brightening with the loveliest smile he had ever seen on her face. “You’re the only one so far to--”

“My Lady.”

Jaime bit back a curse, recognising the gruff voice only too well this time and wishing for him to miraculously disappear, but Tormund seemed have come to her determined, the confidence in his voice the result of last night’s conversation.  

“I wish you well on this special day.” He grinned at her, plonking himself on the chair opposite to them, fixing her with his usual lustful gaze that made Jaime’s stomach churn with disgust. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while, Lady Brienne,” he began, looking at Jaime as he spoke, silently requesting him to leave him alone with Brienne.

Despite wanting to stay put, Jaime got up. There would be time later for him to play his part. “I must leave, I have to speak to the king,” he lied, disappointment crushing him as he imagined the two of them together.

Brienne’s eyes sought his, wordlessly imploring him to stay. “Do you really have to go?” she protested.

He nodded, wishing that he could oblige her. “I’ll talk to you later, my lady,” he said, more as a reassurance to himself than a promise to her.

Jaime was about to leave when Tormund called out to him. “I’ll meet you later as well, Lannister.” he said, the smug smile on his face leaving Jaime all the more distressed. He walked out with a burning rage in his heart, a fire that seemed to flare up more and more every time he spotted the wench with the bloody wildling.

Restless throughout the day, Jaime went about his daily routine, his heart not quite into anything he attempted to do. The day progressed at an excruciatingly slow pace and he saw neither Brienne, nor Tormund again. A hundred questions had clogged his mind, a new one popping up every now and then.

_What are they up to?_

_Did he confess his feelings, or whatever they were to Brienne?_

_Did he ask her to marry him?_

_Did she say yes?_

_Did he manage to get her into his bed?_

As his mind rushed through the possible answers to these, his heart only sank deeper, the previous night’s confidence that his plan might succeed dipping with every passing minute. His mind had now begun playing tricks with him, conjuring disturbing images of Tormund and the wench. Confining himself to his chambers for most of the afternoon, he paced around, looking outside the window more often than usual.

Evening came at its own pace, and with the drowning sun, his morale began to droop as well, a sense of despair filling his chest at the realization that it was nearly time for dinner. If his lie about the roses had failed to have the desired effect, Tormund might even be successful in his attempt to woo Brienne. Having nothing else to do except find a way to deal with his uneasiness, he poured himself a glass of wine, pushing aside thoughts of what might possibly follow the fateful meal.

A loud pounding on the door jolted him out of his reverie. “Lannister,” Tormund called out from behind the door, a hint of doubt and anxiety in his voice.

 _That sounds like a good sign._ Jaime perked up at that thought and opened the door, hoping to hear about the success of his plan.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, forcing himself to look sympathetic. “You look troubled.”

Without waiting for an invitation, Tormund pushed past him and shut the door. “I gave her the flowers,” he said evenly, leaving Jaime unable to gauge the outcome of this action.

“And…?” he prompted, praying fervently that the wench had yelled at him, or punched him in the face, or… anything, just something that might convey her displeasure towards his so-called romantic gesture. “Did she accept your gift?”

“Ofcourse she did, why wouldn’t she?” Tormund paused, and Jaime was once again overcome by the now familiar feeling of dismay. “But, she didn’t seem too happy about it,” he went on thoughtfully, staring at the ceiling. “I got the feeling that she accepted it only because she didn’t want to hurt me, not because she was pleased with it.”

Jaime heaved a sigh of relief. That was music to his ears. When Tormund turned to him again, he changed his expression to one of concern. “Don’t worry,” he said in a soothing voice. “She doesn’t open up that easily, I’m pretty sure she’ll fall for you soon,” he finished, hoping for just the opposite.

“I’m hoping she will. She has agreed to have dinner with me tonight, so who knows what that might lead to…” he trailed away, grinning to himself.

“That’s… uh… nice,” Jaime stuttered, his mind momentarily blank as he tried hard to focus. Her acceptance of the invitation was an unanticipated twist in the tale which implied that his plan had not entirely succeeded. Dinner with Brienne was certainly dangerous, something that needed his immediate intervention. _Who knows what this man might resort to? What if he drugs her drink to seduce her…_ At this thought, a new idea sprang up in his head. “Why don’t you have a drink with me?” he offered graciously, walking to the table and pulling out an empty glass. “Why not mull things over and calm down… prepare for your special evening with her?” He poured out the wine, and when Tormund was not looking, emptied the contents of a thin vial into the glass.

Tormund headed over to him, looking grateful. “Thanks, that would help.” Taking the drink from Jaime, he downed the entire thing in one go, wiping his mouth with the back of his palm. “That was good,” he growled, smacking his lips.

“Wonderful, now why don’t you go and relax for a while,” Jaime suggested. “Allow your nerves to calm down before the big night.”

Tormund got up, beaming at him. “I definitely will.” He spun around when he reached the door. “Thanks, Lannister, I owe you a favour.”

 _You owe me the wench,_ Jaime thought as the door slammed shut. All he had to do now was wait, give his idea the time to show effect. Taking a deep breath, he sank into the bed, glass in hand, biding his time, watching the sun go down as dusk was beginning to set in. In the meantime, he had something important to find. He rummaged through his closet, searching desperately, relaxing only when he had found what he was looking for.

Now, he just had to kill time until the moment was right.

When he was certain that an hour, or maybe two may have gone by, he left, his growing nervousness leaving his palm clammy and his heart thumping harder than usual.

“It’s open,” he heard the familiar voice call out a second after he had knocked on her door. Brienne’s eyes widened when she saw him enter. “Ser Jaime, I thought it was--”

“--Tormund?” He swallowed, hoping she wasn’t disappointed to see him instead.

“Well, yes, he was supposed to come and fetch me.” She hesitated, not quite meeting his eyes. “He was going to take me out to dinner, said he’d make the day special for me.”

 _She doesn’t seem too happy about it,_ he observed, his heart soaring. “Why isn’t he here, then?”

“I don’t know,” she replied with a shrug and a lost expression on her face. “He’s been acting strange since morning. First, he gifts me a bunch of roses--” she made a face “--I didn’t refuse it because I didn’t want to upset him, and then fails to turn up for dinner. If all this is a big, nasty joke…” She turned away, her voice quivering. “I am tired of men behaving this way with me. Earlier it was Ronnet and now--”

Jaime could stand it no more. “Are you serious about Tormund?” He had to know, for his poor, overworked heart wouldn’t withstand the agony of uncertainty any longer.

“No!” she cried out. “I’m not upset about him, nor am I bothered about what he thinks about me. It’s just the general attitude of men like them that disturbs me--”

He stopped her right there. “What did you just say?” He had to hear that again, and again, and again, lest he might be mistaken.

“I’m _not_ interested in Tormund,” she repeated, with added emphasis this time. “I was planning to pretend to be sick when he came to get me. I don’t mean to hurt him, but I have to politely refuse his advances some day. The way he stares at me everytime irks me like hell, to be honest.”

“Gods, you’re telling me all this now!” Jaime nearly fainted in relief. “Had you said a word this morning, I wouldn’t have taken all this effort--” he stopped, checking himself right on time. He didn’t want to tell her about what he had done to Tormund, not until he had put all his doubts to rest.

“What effort?” she asked, eying him suspiciously.

“Nothing.” He tried to hide his mistake, but Brienne was smart enough to get the hint.

She was in no mood to let him go that easily. “Why do I get the feeling that you might be responsible for his absence?”

He pressed his lips together, looking at her like a child caught red-handed playing a prank. “It’s my fault,” he admitted. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt him--”

“What did you do?” Her expression was unfathomable, her blue eyes fixed on his in a piercing gaze. “Why hasn’t he turned up?”

“Oh, he’ll be fine,” he assured her, miffed by her concern for his well being. “I decided to feed him a little Milk of the Poppy, put him to sleep until morning--”

“What?” She looked aghast. “I can’t believe you did that.”

“What else could I do?” He raised his voice, agitated, the pent-up agony from deep within coming out in a rush. “I couldn’t let him force himself on you.”

“Thank you, Ser Jaime,” she said with a small smile. “But I am quite capable of managing him if he tries anything funny with me. It’s nice of you to want to protect me, though--”

 _Has she always been this stupid?_ “Do you think I did all this just to protect you, Brienne?”

She nodded, surprised at the question. “Why else would you go through such trouble?”

“Because I... I can’t bear the thought of you and that wildling,” he fumbled with words, frustrated with his inability to articulate his feelings properly. He took a step towards her. “The way he looks at you… Hells, it kills me bit by bit whenever I see you with him, wench!”

She gazed into his eyes. “I don’t quite understand.” Her voice was a whisper, the pale pink hue that spread across her cheeks making her look all the more adorable.

“Allow me to explain, then,” he said softly, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips. “I can’t see you with another man, my lady, because I care deeply for you.” He began kissing her fingers one at a time, slowly and seductively. She didn’t pull away, which again, was a good sign.

“Is that it?” she asked, her breathing getting heavier and slower.

He moved closer, well into her personal space now. “Stop tormenting me, wench,” he growled, leaning into her. “I admit it, I’m _jealous_ of Tormund or any other man who touches you… or even looks at you. My blood boils and I suffer from an inexplicable urge to wring their neck.”

“And why would you feel that way, Ser Jaime?” Her lips curled in a mischievous smile.

 _Enough of playing around._ “Because I love you, Brienne,” he confessed, deciding that it was now or never. “I’ve loved you ever since… the gods only know when. It was only after I encountered a threat in the form of your wildling friend did I wake up to the voice of my heart.”

“You thought I had fallen in love with Tormund?” It was more of an accusation than a question. “How could such a possibility have crossed your mind when it has always been you, Ser Jaime? Strange has been my situation all these years--” she huffed a little laugh, blushing deeper “I’ve never looked at you that way because of your sister. And I’ve never looked at another man either… because of _you_.”

That was good enough a confession for him. Pulling her into his arms, he kissed her. Surprised at first, she responded in her own sweetly clumsy way. Soon, what started as a chaste declaration of affection turned into a torrid expression of desire, the battle of lips and the sparring of tongues leaving them both panting and gasping when they broke apart, craving for more.

“Tormund wanted to make this a memorable day for me.” Brienne smiled into his lips. “He got his wish. I couldn’t have imagined my day to have been any better than this.” Winding her arms around his neck, she kissed him again, this time just a soft touch of her lips on his.

Jaime kissed her back before drawing away. “Let me make it even better for you, my lady.” When she gave him a questioning look, he gently extricated himself from her embrace. Reaching under his tunic, he pulled out a small pouch. “Open it,” he urged, handing it to her.

Brienne drew its strings open, pulling out the ring it housed, revealing a beautiful sapphire that matched the colour of her eyes. She took a deep breath, staring at it in astonishment. “That’s--” she stopped, unable to speak further, her eyes moist.

“--for you. It belonged to my mother once, and now it’s only fitting that it’s passed on to my wife,” he finished, going down on his knee, hoping and praying that she didn't turn him down. “So will you--” he took her hand “--marry me? Be my wife?”

“What would you do if I refused?” she asked with a little smile on her lips.

“I’d try again,” he quipped, winking at her and gripping her hand tighter. “I’m not someone who gives up that easily, wench.”

“I love you,” was all she said. And that was all he wanted to hear, her eyes conveying the rest. After years of pining for each other, unspoken words, long, lingering glances and burning passion for one another, they had finally found the answer to the biggest question in their hearts.

“I’ll take that as a yes, then.” He got to his feet and slipped the ring on her finger, wondering which was more beautiful-the exquisite sapphire on the jewellery, or her eyes? He kissed her again, taking it slowly this time, pouring all his love for her into the kiss as his lips burned into hers.

“Tormund will come looking for me when he wakes up. What do I tell him?” she asked, when they finally drew apart.

“Ask him to find someone else,” he replied, grabbing her waist and pulling her into an embrace again. “Also, the poor fellow deserves some sympathy, wench. So why don’t you wish him better luck for next time?” He captured her lips again, looking forward to the long night ahead, having every intention of making this her most memorable nameday ever.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Jaime has been mean to Tormund, but as they say, all's fair in love and war ;)  
> Thank you for reading and do let me know if you liked it!


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